


A Drarry Generated Patronus

by yetikatter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gay, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Patronus, Room of Requirement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-26 03:03:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20036860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yetikatter/pseuds/yetikatter
Summary: Alright Drarry children. Today we have Harry Potter assigned to teach Draco Malfoy the Patronus Charm. Neither are happy about the arrangement, but as the unplanned meetings go on, Draco might be crazy... but there seems to be some thing between them. With Harry's repaired space in the room of requirements, the two meet and practice. Somewhere along the way, a little more than Patronuses happen.





	A Drarry Generated Patronus

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, Snape is alive in this story. Enjoy!

Draco’s knee smashed into the desk’s corner as he tried to escape the classroom as quickly as possible. Defense against the dark arts had never been a place he was favored, but after the war, it became a nightmare of stares and memories. He was lucky McGonagall had assigned Professor Magan to the task. She was the strictest teacher yet and wouldn’t tolerate teasing. It was a shame that she would be gone in a year.

“Mr. Malfoy, please wait a moment,” Magan called. Draco stood to the side. Students bumped his shoulder walking by.

“Defense against the Malfoys,” someone muttered. Draco bowed his head. He was still inspecting the floor when the professor approached him.

“It has come to my attention that you cannot produce a patronus charm. Why is this?” Magan asked. Damn it. The blonde thought he could get away with messing up on them for another year or so.

“I never learned.” Draco said.

“Why not?” Nosy bitch.

“My family wasn’t fond of the teaching. They got me out of it.” The Slytherine admitted. He didn’t find any pleasure in saying it.

“Oh, well then, it is required that you produce a patronus as of this year. I have arranged for Harry Potter to teach you.” Draco’s head snapped up at her. He’d spent so long avoiding Harry for reasons he didn’t even want to understand. Probably fear of being forced to kill Potter.

“What?!” Draco spat.

“Harry Potter,” she repeated, “is the best person to teach you. It may be difficult for you to conjure one, considering your history.” Draco grumbled to himself.

“Are you sure-”

“Yes, Mr. Malfoy. He is waiting for you in the library.” Draco opened his mouth, ready to protest, but nothing came out. Professor Magan raised an eyebrow at Draco challengingly. He stared at the floor, turned, and headed for the library.

Harry paced between rows of books restlessly. Why Draco? How could he help someone who didn’t want it? He didn’t want Draco knowing something as personal as his patronus form. Yet, he couldn’t help but wonder what the blonde’s patronus would be.

Harry whirled on the ball of his foot to walk back the other way. He collided with someone and stumbled to the ground on top of them.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, looking down. It was Draco. Harry froze.

“Please move.” Harry didn’t. He stumbled over words. Draco grasped the Gryffindor’s shoulders and pushed him off to the side with surprising force. Harry stood quickly. Draco felt now was a good time to sneer at his nemesis, but he couldn’t bring himself to. He just felt too tired for that.

“Um, I’m teaching you to conjure a patronus,” Harry said, wondering if he sounded as stupid as he felt.

“Yeah. That’s why I’m here,” Draco replied without insult.

“Okay,” the raven-black haired boy calmed himself. “This isn’t exactly the best place to practice a charm. We can probably practice in the room of requirement.”

“Okay. Should we go there now?”

“Erm, I have something to do with Hermione and Ron-”

“Okay great, see you later,” Draco cut him off.

“No, no, it’s fine, this is more important.” Why was Potter so stuttery? Draco nodded and the two of them walked to the room of requirement. A small door appeared as Harry came closer. Draco opened it and was  
instantly pulled into a luminous space. Beaded, feathery charms dangled from the ceiling.

“What are those?” Draco asked.

“Oh, the dream catchers?”

“Yeah.”

“Something from the Muggle world.”

“You did make this room, didn’t you?” Draco said, gazing around the windows streaming with light and pastel yellow colors.

“What do you mean?” Harry asked.

“Everyone at Hogwarts knows you trained Dumbledore’s Army in the room of requirements. We’re in the training room. I wondered if the room was one you accessed or made.”

“How do you know we are in the same room I trained Dumbledore’s Army with?”

“I can sense things like that,” Draco replied sullenly. “People’s aura, as Luna refers to it.” Draco might have been going crazy, but he thought he heard Harry give a faint laugh. “So, Potter, how do I cast a patronus?” Harry grinned and muttered a soft incantation. A trunk sprung from the shadows. Potter really could do wandless magic. Impressive.

“This-” Harry said, “is a makeshift dementor. It isn’t real, but the effects will be.” Draco swallowed the lump in his throat. “A patronus is conjured from a strong memory, filled with emotion. You need to find one, a happy memory, and concentrate on it, then say, expecto patronum.” Draco simply stood there, a knot of anxiety forming in his stomach.

“It can’t be sadness?”

“No. Close your eyes, Draco.” The Slytherin’s cheeks burned. Had Harry called him by his first name? Draco closed his eyes. He could sense Harry walking around him in loose circles.

“Find the moment you were happiest in, then say expecto patronum.” Draco thought for a minute. He traced his memory back years, from the time his father told him he was proud, to when he stood before Dumbledore, cowering at the thought of killing him. He couldn’t find one happy enough. The Slytherin didn’t want Harry to see him fail.

“Can I see you try?” Draco asked.

“Why?” Harry asked wryly.

“An example.” Harry ducked his head. Was Potter nervous?

“Maybe some other time,” Harry replied thickly.

“I best be going,” Draco said, turning to leave as quickly as possible. Harry was thrown from his dark mood, grabbing Draco’s wrist and pulling him back. They both collapsed onto the floor, Harry pinned beneath the blonde. Draco turned a Valentine’s day shade of scarlet and jumped off.

“What was that, Potter?!” Draco tried to sneer. His voice cracked half way through. He stumbled on his cloak in shock and fell. Harry stared, dazed, for a moment before darting over.

“How many bones did losing your pride break?” he asked.

“Oh fuck off,” Malfoy grumbled, still laying on the floor. Harry offered him a hand. Draco himself was surprised to find himself taking it.

“Well then,” Harry started. He looked more frazled than at the end of the triwizard tournament. “Try the charm.” Draco looked behind Harry. Could he really do this in front of his arch nemesis? He felt as thought the world was crumbling. He took a breath. He refused to be the coward Harry saw him to be.

Draco closed his eyes and imagined his father clapping, a faint smile lining his face after Draco recited a 300 line historical text at a dinner party. His father was proud of him.

“Expecto patronum!” he shouted. Was that really a smile? Looking back, Draco realized that same face could have been thinking, or dissatisfaction with his pale, weak son. The Slytherine’s mood dampened. Shit. The spell wasn’t working. He could feel it.

“Good,” Harry encouraged. Draco glanced at him, confused.

“But, I didn’t do it right,” he said.

“I don’t know anyone who got it on their first try,” Harry replied.

“Bet you did,” Draco grumbled.

“No, I had a panic attack,” Harry said with a contagious laugh. Draco joined him. The raven haired book looked shocked.

“I can laugh, you know, Potter.”

“Yeah, yeah. What held you back from the patronus?” Draco’s smile faded.

“I couldn’t find a memory,” he said. His voice held so much contempt and pain, even Draco was surprised. Harry tilted his head sympathetically. “Aren’t you going to make fun of me?”

“No, why would I do that?”

“Rich boy with a ‘hard’ life.”

“I don’t think you had a ‘hard’ life. I think it was just as difficult as my own.” Draco scoffed.

“How was your life hard, golden boy? Savior?”

“For your information, both my parents are dead and I was raised in a muggle family who kept me in a cupboard under the stairs, basically a house elf,” Harry spat. “And do you have any idea what it's like to have so much expected of you? To have to fulfill this prophecy you don’t know exists? To be raised to save the world when you didn’t even know you were a wizard till you were eleven?!” Rage grew in the Gryffindor’s voice. It sliced into Draco like a butcher knife.  
Before he knew what was happening, Draco had darted forward and wrapped his arms around Harry in a tight embrace. He could feel Potter’s heart rate against his head. It was scary fast and pounding. Draco intertwined his fingers with Potter’s hair. He waited to be shoved off, hexed, to throw up snails, but nothing happened. Instead, Harry was hugging him back, burying his head into the crook in Draco’s neck.

What the hell was happening.

Draco knew he should pull away, but he didn’t. This went against everything he had to do and had been taught. Potter couldn’t wreck that now. Yet, he was still holding the Gryffindor. Harry seemed so relaxed. Why? They were supposed to be enemies. Draco pushed Harry off delicately. He couldn’t bring himself to shove the raven haired boy. Harry kept his head bowed to the ground.

“Can’t let us become friends, Potter,” Draco said with a weak smile. Harry’s lips curled into a slight grin.

“Yeah. See you tomorrow. 9pm here.” Then, Harry turned and exited the room with the messy style Draco admired so much. It was kind of adorable. Wtf was he thinking. Adorable in a childlike way. Not imposing, just cute, weak. Cute?! Shit. Draco pushed Harry out of his mind, afraid of experiencing any other thoughts alike that.

Rain is anything but amazing, I mean, really. Anyone who thinks that is a godfucking idiot.----said my favorite humaniod who writes a fantastic gay story ;)

8 pm, the next day-

“What is the product of Wolfsbane and Waterlilies?” Draco lurched back into reality. The pasty voice had been directed at him.

“Um… Sunpotter- Sunplofter,” he sputtered. Snape raised an eyebrow at him.

“Five points from Slytherine,” Snape grumbled. Draco felt his shoulders droop. Fuck. He needed to get that boy out of his head. The rest of the class went on as usual, except, Draco couldn’t seem to focus. It was like restless syndrome had consumed his mind, but he wasn’t sure why. What the hell did he have to do to get out of this daze? The clock turned slowly. 8:30. Thirty more minutes. Until what? Draco wondered. He went still realizing he was meeting Potter in thirty minutes. He had to perform a patronus charm.

Learning had always came easily to the blonde, but mastering an art that involved happy memories fazed him. Though he had plenty to brag about, Draco couldn’t think of a single thing he was proud of. No happy family reunion sparked his memory. And it wasn’t like he could tell Potter that. Had his nemesis really grown up like a house elf? Draco suspected this was a gross exaggeration, yet he was still somewhat curious. Draco wasn’t entirely sure what a cupboard looked like. Maybe he was telling the truth. Still, the golden boy’s life was always full of fame and kids wanting his autograph since he was four. Draco rolled his eyes. Fucking Potter. ‘Hard life’.

“Mr. Malfoy,” Snape beckoned.

“Yes?” he asked.

“Detention for you inattentiveness. Tomorrow at six.” Draco groaned to himself. God damn that Potter.

It was five seconds to nine when Draco arrived at the room of requirements. It took a moment for the door to appear. Draco stepped through. The smell of old books and the evening filled his lungs. Light streamed through the carved windows down onto the open space. Books lined the wall. Draco realized how much he missed in this room. Bean bags were at the end of every row of books. There was a massive open high ceilinged space to the left, presumably for practicing spells.

Draco was so warped in the gorgeous setting that he hardly saw Harry reading promptly across the room. Draco jumped when the boy’s messy hair caught his sight.

“You’re here,” he said, feeling stupid imediatly after.

“Erm, yes,” Harry replied, setting his book down.

“I haven’t seen you reading much,” Draco observed.

“When have you been watching?” Harry challenged. Draco ‘s cheeks flushed.

“Is it good?” Draco asked.

“Let’s skip small talk.” Draco couldn’t help but notice Potter bookmark his page and slide the book in a cubby, out of sight. What was the Gryffindor hiding? Harry walked toward him casually. He wore loose jeans and a half tucked in white shirt. His yellow and red tie was left loose around his neck. Potter really could rock that messy look. It was only when the raven haired boy whipped his wand nonchalantly from his back pocket that Draco lost it.

“What are you doing?” he spat. Potter turned his head toward Draco, green eyes bright as ever.

“What do you mean?”

“Acting all perfect, like everything’s just dainty!” Draco couldn’t stand Potter’s natural confidence, acting as though everything was working out, when it wasn’t! Harry simply laughed.

“I doubt everything is ‘dainty’. My hamper certainly isn’t.”

“Hamper?” Draco asked.

“Oh. Muggle thing.”

“Mhm, mhm, great. Just perfect.”

“Are you sure you’re up to practicing today?”

“Of course I am!”

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked, sitting on a bean back and gesturing to the one across from his. Draco tried to think of a protest, but he was ready to get off his feet. The blonde sat stiffly next to Harry. “Do you like tea?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“Erm, a polite one? We have a kettle down here.”

“What in Merlin is a kettle?!” Draco burst, getting more and more frustrated by the second. Harry stared a second before getting to his feet and walking behind Malfoy to a small counter with a few kitchen items.

“I’m gonna make you some tea, then we’ll talk.” Talk? Was Draco talking to Potter? Fuck no.

“Chia or Jasmine?”

“Which ever had caffeine,” Draco mumbled, rubbing his temple. Potter sat next to him a few seconds later clutching two mugs of steaming tea. Fuck that smelled good. Draco gulped the liquid down.

“Tea is meant to be enjoyed, Draco,” Harry said faintly, watching the blonde chug his drink.

“I am aware of manners, Potter, I’m just not in the mood right now.”

“Why? You don’t have to tell me,” Potter added quickly. Draco leaped up off the bean bag. He set the mug on a counter.

“Everything is fucking hell. My father’s a jerk. I got detention from Snape. I don’t know how I feel about anything, and I can’t produce a god damn patronus! Even the great Potter can’t help me! I’m that fucked up!” Harry took a comical sip of his tea. “Oh come on! Don’t just stare! I have issues too!”

“I’m aware,” Harry said heartily.

“I can’t make a patronus. We shouldn’t be doing this. I can take a toll on my grades.” Draco turned to leave, but Harry caught up with him quickly.

“No, Draco, wait,” he pleaded.

“Why?” Draco asked, on the verge of breaking down.

“I want to teach you,” Harry said. His tone was honest.

“Why the hell would you want to do that?” Draco asked, moving away from the adorable boy. Draco couldn’t help but notice the curve of his lips and rosy cheeks that illuminated his eyes so well. Draco wasn’t truly annoyed by Potter’s hair. Though disorganised, it was thick and soft, he imaged. Why was that all he could think of at a time like this?

“I’m not sure yet,” Harry admitted.

“‘Yet’?” Was it just Draco, or did Harry blush? No, Harry always had color in his cheeks. Was this break down about his inability to produce a patronus, or Potter?

“Look Malfoy,” Harry began, walking closer to Draco, “you just confuse me. I’d love to teach you though. I hope you stick around.” Draco confused him? Harry sure as hell confused Draco. The blonde nodded. Harry smiled. You should do that more often. You look beautiful when you smile. Draco decided to hang around a little longer, just to see investigate the book Potter was reading. Just for the book.

Later that night, the two boys found themselves seated by the fire, sipping tea and watching the flames through the darkness. Silence in the room consumed Draco’s thoughts. Both him and Harry were deep in thought. Have I ever looked at Pansy the way I do Potter? At his swift jaw line and toned chest you can almost see through his shit? I don’t think I’ve ever had a dream about kissing a girl. I have with multiple boys though. I thought I got that to go away with a few emotions blocking charms. It seems they’ve worn off. Draco briefly considered using the charms again, but he decided to try something else instead.  
Dream catchers watched Draco, wishing him luck as he got up to get more tea. When he came back, he was determined to make a move. Draco sat carefully next to Harry. The Gryffindor looked surprised, but not unhappy. Draco leaned against Harry. His heart raced. Please don’t push me off. Just let me stay like this forever. Draco waited for Harry to do anything between push him off to hex him. Nothing came. It was a few minutes before Harry rested his head on Draco’s shoulder. The blonde could almost feel the nervousness radiating from the room. Was the Gryffindor thinking of this the same way he was?  
Draco was aware of every part of his body touching Harry; they all turned to jelly. He stood up, moving Harry off him. Draco shuffled to the couch so his back rested in the corner of the cushions. He gestured for Harry to join him. Draco had his arms out when the raven haired beauty approached him. Though it was welcomed, he didn’t expect Harry to lay down against him, practically in Draco’s arms. The Slytherine froze.

“Are you okay?” he asked Harry. Maybe the Gryffidor had a concussion, it seemed to be the case fifty percent of the time. Make that seventy.

“Yeah,” Harry answered with a chuckle. “Your just warm and I’m freezing my ass off, sorry.” It was just because Potter was cold. Damn it. Ugh. Draco hated that he was right.

“Then get your arse up and grab a blanket!” he scolded. Harry laughed.

“I’m fine with this arrangement if you are.” Draco stiffened. What did that mean?

“Accio blanket,” he said, but when a fluffy green fabric smacked him in the face, he put it over both Potter and himself. “I get cold too, ya know.”

“Really?”

“Yes, Potter,” Draco said with a loose laugh. Harry adjusted his head so he could look up at Malfoy. Draco could see ever feature of Potter’s up close. The pink lightning shaped scar, tousled hair, almost glowing green eyes. He could probably lean down and kiss Harry from here. “What?” he asked.

“I don’t think I’ve heard you laugh.”

“Of course you have!”

“At me doesn’t count!”

“Fine. There’s a first time for everything,” Draco said, breaking eye contact with Harry and looking forward before he said something he’d regret.

“You should do that more often. It’s nice,” Harry said. Draco took the complement.

“I should go back to my dormitory,” Draco said. He got up, almost sad to leave Potter, and turned to leave. Harry didn’t stur. “Aren’t you going to go back?”

“No. Sometimes I come here and spend the night thinking. It’s when you really figure out shit.”

“Don’t your friends get concerned?”

“No, they get it. Goodnight, Malfoy.” Draco paused at the door. A small part of him didn’t want to go. Potter probably didn’t want him here anyway. Draco straightened up and left, looking out for teachers on the way back to his room, away from the boy who still lay looking up at the dream catchers where he had seen Draco’s gorgeous gray eyes beaming down at him. If he stared hard enough, the memory almost came to life, melting his fears and thoughts alike.

Draco woke with a start. He glanced at the clock. Seven am. Draco never woke up early. The boy got up and slipped a binder out of his nightstand table. In the common room, he folded his knees on the couch and stared at the fire. He had done this with Potter last night. Draco opened his binder and continued sketching on a piece of paper. He wasn’t entirely sure what to draw, but when the figure started to take form, Draco was horrified to find it was Harry’s soft complexion, thinking.

“Who’s that?” Draco stuffed the paper under more blank sheets.

“Go away, Pansy!” he spat childishly.

“Why? So you can draw your dream boy?”

“No- wait- dream boy?” Draco glared up at Pansy. She couldn’t know, could she?

“You act gay,” the girl replied casually.

“Why? Because I won’t date you?”

“I mean, obviously, but you also spend a lot of time staring at a certain scar head boy,” Pansy told him with a grin. Draco turned red. Pansy situated herself on an armchair.

“I’m not gay!”

“Then show me who you were drawing,” Pansy challenged. Draco stopped short. Was he gay?

“What counts as gay?” Draco asked.

“Well, if you are drawn to guys and like being close to them physically in a non platonic way, and draw them obsessively in potions thinking your best friend can’t see what your doing as well as the whole class-”

“I get it. You think I’m gay. How do you know the sketches aren’t for a hex?”

“You don’t need fifty-six sketches of the person for any hex.” Draco turned bright red. “Mmmhmmm, gay child.”

“Shut up! People in this house would kill me, and wanting to snog Harry Potter of all people,” Draco said with a discerning sigh.

“Harry Potter?!” Pansy giggled.

“Yes, wait did you not see who was in the drawings?”

“No, I’m too far back in the classroom.”

“Damn it, Pansy, I didn’t have to tell you that!” She laughed maniacally and exited the room as jolly as she had entered. “Don’t tell anyone!” he called out. She gave him a thumbs up before heading up the stairs to the girl’s dormitory. Draco sighed and leaned back against the couch. He stared up at the ceiling. Green and creamy white trailed in swirls and mazes. Maybe he was at one end and Potter at the other. Trying to find their way to one and other, but getting tangled in a swirl every time. That is, if Harry wanted to find Draco.

The blonde stood quickly. He couldn’t be thinking such things. They would haunt him forever. Breakfast was open at this time. Draco darted down to the great hall to grab a croissant. Today would be a good one to hide away.

Turning the corner with deadly speed, Draco ran smack into someone. Why did they smell so good? Draco looked up, ready to sneer. His eyes met green ones.

“Potter?”

“Draco?” Harry asked, amused.

“Its early,” Draco said.

“Erm, that it is? I don’t usually see you at this hour.”

“Yeah, not much of an early riser.” Harry offered Draco a hand. He took it, standing back up.

“I am,” Harry said with a far off laugh, like he was recalling something funny. “It’s only seven.”

“I get up at anywhere from nine to noon,” Draco told him, earning a laugh that made the Gryffindor’s face light up.

“Try four am.” Draco’s eyes widened.

“But last night you were up late with me-” he stopped short, not sure if it was a bad idea to recall the encounter.

“Yeah,” Harry murmured. He didn’t seem eager to explain his habits. Draco resigned from the subject before he scared Potter off. But he was supposed to scare Potter. Oh fuck it.

“Hey, um, training tomorrow?” Draco asked hopefully.

“Sorry, I can’t,” Harry answered. Draco felt his shoulders droop. Potter didn’t have anything for him. Wtf was he thinking. “You can use the room though. I do, when I need to, ya know, get away from everything.”

“I won’t,” Draco answered, embarrassed, and raced away. He wasn’t going to take anything from Potter.

The rest of the day went by ever so slowly. Pansy tried to tease him at lunch, but he stormed away to the grounds outside. Draco went to the dock. He wondered what it would be like to breath underwater. Well, he could find out, but he didn’t entirely want to. It would be better to always imagine the feeling than to get in the water and realize it wasn’t as good as it sounded. Draco shivered at the thought. No, it would be amazing, he told himself. Don’t lose hope. It was rather hard, though, with Potter interfering with everything.

Draco went to three more classes before six, detention with Snape. The classroom almost glowed green with pickled animals and Merlin knows what else. Had the greasy haired man always been this horrifying? He could use a re decorating. Draco almost laughed to himself. Potter would have thought that funny.

“Mr. Malfoy,” Snape said cooly, stepping out of the store room.

“Yes?” he asked.

“Don’t fancy Potter.”

“What?” Draco snapped, shock making him light headed. Snape glared at him intently. Too much of that could fry a person’s soul, Draco thought.

“All Potters are the same. They can’t be trusted. Don’t fancy the stump of a man,” Snape told him.

Did everyone know Draco’s business?

“I don’t,” he said, adding a sense of revolt in his tone.

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not!” Draco practically shouted.

“Fine then. Enjoy your night,” Snape’s voice drew out.

“What about detention?”

“You have more important things to work on.” With that, Snape disappeared into the store room, for tasks Draco even want to know about. He turned and exited the musty dungeon classroom, lacking his usual chilling vibe. Draco stormed through the halls, muttering an argument to himself.

“So what if I like Potter? Does it really matter? So what if I’m gay! There’s nothing wrong with that! It’s just a different form of happiness. Does it really matter if I’m happy? If a man brings me joy? Harry is gorgeous and talented and a good person, why can’t I like him?” Draco caught some first years staring at him while he delivered a muffled defence. God he couldn’t do this here. Draco looked to see where he was. Hall to the right, to the left, forward was a door he recognized. Draco’s brow raised in surprise. It was the room of requirements. Why had a door appeared? Apparently, Draco required something. He hesitated, before gripping the handle and walking inside.

A familiar space enveloped Draco. He couldn’t say that happened much. It felt like home. Another word he didn’t say much. Home.

“Home,” Draco said. It echoed off the walks. “HOME,” he shouted, as though if he said it loud enough, he would feel it at the manor, and Hogwarts for that matter. His father followed him everywhere, even the beautiful school.

Draco stared up at the high ceiling. The room flickered like a stray tv screen. He stumbled. Was it just him, or did the room shift thirty degrees? The boy tumbled to the ground, off balance, and somewhere in the room, another boy restrained from running to him.

After a minute or so, Draco’s dizzy spell faded and he started for the faucet. He was probably dehydrated. Water. Ugh. Draco gulped down two cups of H2o from a mug that read “the most dangerous drinking game is seeing how long I can go without butter beer”. It made the blonde chuckle. A week ago, he would have scoffed and avoided the mug like it was a deadly virus. What changed? Potter. Potter changed him. Him and his good looks.

Dream catchers stirred above Draco. He glanced up at them. Hadn’t Potter been gazing at those muggle things all night? Curiosity consumed the blonde. He lay back on the couch and looked up.

“You know, it only works if you know what your doing.” Draco jumped. Potter was leaned against a nearby bookshelf. He looked a lot more calm than in class. Relaxed, even. Carefree, no, just free. Draco admired that.

“Stocker,” he told the Gryffindor. Harry smiled modestly.

“I’m glad someone gives me a little credit.” Did Potter just wink at him?!

“What are you doing here?” Draco asked, looking away.

“Well, you said you weren’t coming, so…” Bullshit. Potter arranged this. He knew that Draco enjoyed the room. Maybe… maybe Harry had wanted to see Draco. Or was that wishful thinking?

“Yeah, but you knew I would. Why else would you give me permission?”

“Politeness?”

“That is a field you seem to surpass me in.”

“Maybe a little.”

“Your scary calm,” Draco told Harry, who simply smiled.

“People have layers. Out there, I’m the chosen one. In here, I’m Harry. And your one to talk, oh tense one.”

“What?”

“Your really tense, like someone is about it hit you over the head with a ruler for bad posture.”

“My posture is fine, thank you very much,” Draco said. A smile crossed his face. “Come sit down, your making me nervous.” Harry shook his head, grinning, and sat across from Draco on a bean bag.

“You wanna make this interesting?” Draco’s heart bounced.

“How?” he asked cautiously.

“Truth or dare,” Harry said dramatically.

“Are you a sixteen year old girl?!”

“Just a little,” Harry replied.

“What does that mean?!” Harry flushed red. Draco wondered if Harry was trying to say something, or hide it.

“Nothing.”

“Alright. Fine. Truth or dare?” Draco asked. Harry looked surprised.

“Dare?”

“I dare you to tell me what you meant by ‘just a little’ of a sixteen year old girl.” Harry turned red. Merlin, Potter, don’t be trans. Don’t be the gender I’m not tempted to snog. Harry opened his mouth to say something, but shut it quickly. “You know the rules, Potter, now tell me.”

“I mean- sixteen year old girl like guys.. right?” Draco froze. He felt hot and cold break out across his forehead at the same time.

“Speak up,” Draco scolded. Just tell me! He pleaded to himself.

“I find guys… hot.” Draco gaped. Holly Fuck. YESSSSS. Draco was so busy leading a gay parade in his head that he almost didn’t catch Potter’s eyes turn glossy. He masked a wide smile and gazed at Potter.

“Are you okay?” he asked, surprised at how soft his voice was. Harry looked so fragile in the fire light, with beads of water dripping down his face like gorgeous gems.

“Y-yea, just tired.” Harry’s tone betrayed him. Draco moved next to him.

Harry covered his face, shaking from what Draco didn’t doubt was muffled sobs. He put a hand on Harry’s back. God, why did Potter have to be so adorable. He gave up restraining. Draco wrapped an arm around Harry’s shoulders, nudging him into the blonde’s figure. Harry melted into Draco, head resting on the Slytherine’s chest, legs curled across his lap. Draco clutched him tightly, nestling his head into the Gryffindor’s neck whispering reassuring comments into the raven haired boy’s ear.

“It’s okay, Harry, really.” Harry looked up at him, startled. “What?” Draco asked.

“You called me Harry,” the boy said in disbelief.

“Sorry, Potter, Potter.”

“No, no I like it. Call me Harry.” Draco let his breath out. Had he been holding it?

“Your scent is intoxicating,” Draco whispered hoarsely. Oh shit. Harry’s eyes widened. How many times had Draco shocked the poor boy that evening? Draco felt the gears of embarrassment crank in his head.

“Erm… w-what do I smell like?”

“...a flower after it rains,” Draco answered softly.

“What the bloody hell does that smell like?” Harry asked with a sob and chuckle mixed in his words.

“I’ll show you,” Draco said. He pulled Harry up, and through the halls. Harry slung his cloak over the two of them. “Do you just carry that thing around?!”

“Sometimes,” Harry admitted. It was dark out now. The sun was a far shadow against the hills.

“Why do we always end up together at night?” Draco asked.

“Because it’s the most r-” Harry stopped short. “We’re trouble makers.” Draco laughed.

The two boys darted out into a courtyard. Flower boxes lined the outside. Rain poured onto the cloak. Harry bent down to one flower. When he rose, there was an odd look in his brilliant green irises.

“Truth or Dare,” he said.

“Can we do this inside?” Draco asked.

“No. Truth or dare.”

“Dare.”

“I dare you to take something from Snape’s store room.” Draco gave him a puzzled look.

“How about we go inside before deciding how to get ourselves killed. Shall we?” Harry almost smiled. They scampered through Hogwarts to Snape’s classroom.

“Why exactly do I have to do this?” Draco asked.

“You’ll see, back in the room of requirements.” Draco was dazed at how subtly Harry could change his aura. Merlin. Draco slunk in the room and to the back. Jars lined every available space on countless shelves. What should he get? The blonde read a few labels. One stood out to him. It’s time to end this. He thought, then snatched up a carefully chosen vial and running back to Harry outside.

Back in the room of requirement, Draco clutched the vial’s label out of Harry’s view.

“So, why did you dare me to do that?”

“Are you not aware of my feud with Snape?!”

“Oh I’m aware. You always look like you're forming a master plot to kill him.”

“I most likely am.” Draco laughed. “You should do that more.”

“Do what?”

“Laugh,” Harry told him.

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” Harry answered with an edge of defense.

“Truth or dare?” Drao asked suddenly.

“Dare.” Draco held out the vial, label peeled off.

“I dare you to smash this, and tell me what it’s scent is.”

“What in bloody hell…”

“You know the rules, Harry.” Saying the boy’s name out loud gave Draco goosebumps.

“Fine.” Harry snatched up the vail and walked to a clear space. I threw it down. Red fog consumed both of them. Draco’s lungs were instantly filled.

“Answer the question,” he told Harry, ignoring the fog.

“I-it smells, oddly enough, like… you.” Draco’s heart soared. The label was still clutched in his fist. Amortentia. He inhaled one last bit of damp flower before pulling Harry back on the couch with new found confidence.

“That was odd.”

“Tell me about it,” Draco scoffed. He noticed Harry wince at the sound.

“A random potion from Snape that could have killed us.” Draco was surprised when he looked at Harry to find him grinning.

“Fucking Gryffindors! You're smiling at that! Merlin, you're gonna be dead by Christmas!” The comment only made Harry laugh heartily. The sound of Harry’s laughter filled the room.

“Truth or dare,” he said, regaining his composer.

“Truth,” Draco replied.

“Who do you fancy?”

“You are a sixteen year old girl!” Draco earned, yet another round of laughter. The blonde joined in.

“Can I give a general feature?”

“Sure.”

“Well, they have gorgeous raven black hair that I can’t keep my eyes off of.” Harry blushed. Did he know Draco was talking about him? “Oh, and can you teach me how to use the dream catchers?”

“Sure.” Draco glanced up at the catchers. He wondered what he would find up there. “First, you have to know what your goal is.”

“What is my goal?”

“Well, the dream catchers help you make sense of your thoughts. Once your mind is in tune with them, it starts to make sense. Your goal is what you want to find out.”

“Okay.” Draco filtered through his thoughts. “I’ve got it.”

“Alright, lay back.” Draco fell against the couch. Harry laughed. “More like this:” he grasped Draco and pulled him to the side. The blonde fell against Harry. “Lay flat,” the Gryffindor instructed. Draco did. “Look up at them and lose your mind in the patterns.”

Draco gazed at the mess of feathers and beaded thread. They spun erratically. Who should I be? He asked them. The spinning seemed to come down on him, Warping his mind, tickling it.  
Draco saw memories play before him. His father, rejoicing in the Dark Lord’s return. Draco had asked him if he would be home in time for dinner. Lucius replied “Of course, my son!” and bounded out of the room.

Several hours later, the blonde was still perched in the living room, waiting for someone who he wasn’t sure was going to come home at all. In fact, his father didn’t. He returned two weeks later, telling Draco everything he needed to do.

Then, there was a series of other memories showing parts of Draco’s personality. The memories stopped winding at a Quidditch match. It was stormy. Draco was no longer watching the events pass, he was in the moment. Draco grasped the stand’s rail tightly. He remembered this game. The wild storm held dementors swarming the sky. Why were the dreamcatchers making him relive this? It was terrifying to see Harry fall. That was it! Draco pushed past Crabbe down the stands. He could hear them calling his name, but he bolted for the locker room and snatched up a broom. With the entirety of Hogwarts watching, Draco kicked off into the sky, shooting straight up after Harry who was about to descend into the clouds.

“Harry! Don’t go!” he screamed. Harry gave him a confused look, put the other team’s seeker was already shooting for the snitch. Of course the Gryffindor followed. Draco went after him. As the fog of clouds enveloped them, the blonde became aware of black shapes swooping past Harry. This was it. The other team’s seeker went back. Harry didn’t. Of course not, that git. A final dementor ran right in front of Harry. It almost attached itself to the raven haired boy. Draco froze. What if the dementor killed him? He took a quick breath and conjured the happiest memory he could find. It was of… Potter smiling up at him.

“Expecto Patronum!” Blue white light erupted from Draco’s wand. A slick cat emerged from it, running at the dementor. The black figure darted away. Draco’s broom shot under Harry to somewhat catch him. The Gryffindor’s cold body fell into him. Draco grasped Harry tightly, willing him not to fall.

Draco’s eyes split open. Harry was leaned over him, a look of concern on his face.

“What’s up?” Draco asked, breathless, back in the room of requirements.

“You jerked a lot. Figuring out a shitload?”

“I guess.”

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Harry asked. Draco put a hand on the back of Harry’s neck. This was it. Harry was his everything. Fuck all the rest of it.

“Yeah. I did.” Harry didn’t say anything, simply looked him in the eye, messy hair spilling onto Draco’s forehead.

“Your look cute asleep,” Harry said quietly.

“Kiss me,” Draco whispered. Quick as a stag, Harry cupped Draco’s jaw and joined their lips. They were moving in sync. Bloody hell. Why hadn’t Harry done this sooner? Draco wrapped his other arm around Harry and pulled him closer.

The next morning, Harry awoke to find Draco curled into him. He had waited far too long to kiss this bloke. Harry planted a few kisses on the blonde’s forehead, and gazed up at the dream catchers. Why do we always end up together at night? Draco had asked him the night before. Harry had tried to say “Because it’s the most romantic.”


End file.
